


Time's Arrow

by organfailure



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate History, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Character Death is Only Mentioned, M/M, Post-Canon, Sad feelings, Spoilers, ig?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 19:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15346599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/organfailure/pseuds/organfailure
Summary: They're living in a new world, but Armin is still stuck in the past.





	Time's Arrow

The weather had been miserable that day. Armin had been looking forward to an afternoon walk through the newly renovated capital gardens, but the entire week the heavens had deemed the city worthy of punishment for some arbitrary crime, hurling down torrential downpour after torrential downpour. Explaining this in his call with Jean, Armin suggested perhaps a visit to one of the city’s museums or movie palaces instead. He had hoped for a place they could at least talk with each other, and Armin supposed those places would work as well as any. Letters were no adequate substitute for a face to face conversation.

Jean’s excitement over the prospect of seeing a moving picture was, admittedly, adorable. He was still billeted in some frontier town, quickly building itself of up from nothing like the other settlements dotting the edges of Paradis but lacking the comforts of the larger cities. And so Armin stood waiting outside the lavish theatre, shivering even through his wool coat as he took shelter beneath the building’s marquee. It was late afternoon, but the sun was setting early as it always did this late in the year, and the theatre’s lights has been turned on, turning the palace into a glittering beacon amongst the rest of the city’s gray backdrop.

The lights were something Armin had grown used to, like he had grown used to so many things. Still, when he took the time to really look at them, his mind reeled. A single bulb lit up shined brighter than fifty candles, and the electric lights now lit up whole cities in their place. Armin had seen experimental versions of the bulbs before, stowed away in the back rooms of labs he visited while doing his work with Hanji, and already they were now the most popular form of lighting in the city. The future was, quite literally, brighter.

Nowhere were the changing times so evident as at the Yoshiwara Theatre. It featured a decadently lavish exterior and interior based on the older theaters in the city, but was outfitted with modern lights and projectors. There, the intricate curves reminiscent of the imperial palaces of old blended seamlessly with the sleek geometry and bright colors that were so popular now. It perfectly exemplified both the luxury of the interior during the war and the changes that had come after. Armin removed his dampened felt fedora, running his fingers through his hair as he looked up at the ceiling underneath the marquee. His eyes traced over the delicate curls of the design, thinking back to his days poring over the circles and semicircles of battle formations.

“Armin?”

At the sound of his name, Armin’s eyes shot forward. There stood Jean Kirchstein, soaked from the rain and removing his own hat, staring right back at him with an expectant smile on his face.

“Jean,” Armin said, a little breathless at the sight of him because it really had been too long since he'd last seen him, and suddenly Jean was right there with his arms around him crushing him in a tight embrace.

“Armin! I missed you, man!”

“Missed you, too.” Armin laughed, his words muffled by the fabric of Jean’s coat. Armin carefully extracted himself from Jean’s grip, looking the man over. “Ugh, you got me wet!”

“You were already wet.” Jean said, eyes then wandering to his surroundings as he took in the theater’s entryway, as though he were only now noticing the lavish surroundings after greeting Armin. “I swear I could see this place from a mile away. It's...a lot.”

“It is.” Armin nodded, eyes flicking between the entrance’s many lights. “Even when you’ve lived here for so long.”

“And they show pictures here?”

“Yes,” Armin said with a half laugh, “Yes, they do. Though I don't come here often.”

“If I lived in the city I’d come here every night.”

“You’d get tired of it.” Armin said as he watched Jean examine some of the richly painted posters hanging by the theater door. “And anyways, I don't have all that much time for it."

“You made time to come here with me.” Jean commented wryly, peering over his shoulder to look at Armin, who could already feel his face heating up. 

“Of course I did, I haven't seen you in months.”

“I'm glad the commander gave you a reprieve.”

“She's...sympathetic.” Armin said, not mentioning the several all-nighters he may have pulled over the past few weeks to finish all his work in time for Jean’s visit to the capital. He joined Jean by the poster, advertising the picture he had bought them tickets to, not knowing exactly what it was about. Most people didn't really care what a picture was about, anyways; It was still enough of a novelty that people barely even paid attention to the story.

“She works you to the bone.”

“Who would've imagined there’d still be so much paperwork after the war?” Armin said with a wry smile. “Someone has to make sure everything goes where it needs to go, otherwise none of the settlements would be possible.”

“You should be out there on the frontier, and I should be stuck behind that desk. We all know it.” Jean said.

“The soldiers need their leader.”

Jean accepted the compliment with a half hearted shrug. “You’ll get out there soon. It's where you belong.”

With you, Armin thought. It was rather cruel. After decades of dreaming of a vast, unexplored outside world, Armin was now relegated to sending other people out to settle it. Jean probably was more suited for his job, if Armin was being honest with himself, but he suspected Hanji didn't mind keeping him close by for her own research purposes.

“I hope so. Becoming a glorified secretary wasn't exactly what I had in mind for myself when the war ended. Though, I suppose, during the war we were so worried about winning we never could really think about what would come next.”

“You never thought about the future?” Jean asked.

“Well...I mean, sure I did, but I was never all that sure if I would live to see it. None of us were.”

Jean went quiet, and his eyes looked pensive as they stared at the poster. Armin knew his thoughts were elsewhere.

“Come on,” Armin said gently, taking Jean's arm, “Let's go. This place is even nicer on the inside.”

Like the electric lights, the moving pictures were something that still thoroughly amazed Armin, even though by this point he was well acquainted with them. Jean seemed dazzled at the picture projected onto the massive screen, scenes of heroism and villainy and romance flickering before them. The movie's lead girl was quite pretty, a round faced, doe-eyed thing with sooty black eyes and a dark little rosebud mouth. Jean watched intently as she cowered tremulously in the face of an encroaching villain, scenes of her plight intercut with title cards of her crying out for help. Armin could already predict the outcome-Some dashing, mustachioed hero would swoop in to save the day-But he could scarcely keep his eyes off the screen as the orchestral strings swelled dramatically. He looked away for a moment to catch Jean’s reaction, only to find himself unable to look back to the picture. Jean felt very deeply, as much as he tried to deny it, and an intense mixture of wonder and worry at the onscreen woman’s peril was writ across his face, just visible in the darkness of the theater. For better or for worse, Armin knew Jean was a deeply empathetic person, and he felt that distinctive tug in his chest as he studied him. When Jean breathed out in relief as the hero arrived to save the day, Armin couldn't hold back a light chuckle. Jean's attention was diverted then as he looked back to catch Armin's gaze.

“What?” He asked with an amused smile. Armin shook his head.

“You're just funny. I'm glad you're enjoying it.”

“Ah. Well.” Jean looked back to the screen, and Armin caught just the slightest hint of a blush across his cheeks. “I've never seen anything like it before, have I?”

“I suppose not.”

Soon, the movie was over; ‘THE END’ was projected across the screen in big, bold letters. Most of the other viewers filed out of the theatre, a small sum staying behind to wait for the next picture to start.

“That was...wow. Nothing like that on the frontier.” Jean breathed out as he leaned forward in his chair. Armin watched as Jean tucked a strand of hair behind his ear absentmindedly; His hair was just past his shoulders now, tied off at the end with a dark ribbon. 

“Your hair is getting so long. It's longer than mine ever was.” Armin commented, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching for the strands just below the tie, lightly fingering them.

“It reminds me of yours before you cut it.”

“Short hair is in style now, you know.”

Jean smiled at that, eyes glanced down to Armin's fingers as Armin, remembering himself, self consciously removed them.

“Makes me look older.” Jean said, and suddenly Armin remembered late nights in the boys bunker when the young trainees clamoured for the mirror to inspect with near medical scrutiny their jaws and necks for the first sign of facial hair. Those graced with a fine smattering of stubble were made into objects of envy for those without. All of them had been too eager to grow up, and half of them never got to.

He and Jean were getting old. Armin wasn't yet thirty, and neither was Jean, but he certainly felt old. Since the end of the Titan War, since their ensuing contact with the rest of humanity, life on Paradis had been like a centrifuge, spinning forward faster and faster until Armin's head felt dizzy. Living in the moment, focusing on the day to day minutiae of balancing budgets and filing reports was all that kept Armin grounded. In the dim golden glow of the theater lights, Armin could just barely make out a shock of gray hair at Jean’s temples. It was likely due to stress and not necessarily age, but there was no denying that the years had left their mark on Jean. Armin tried to remember what Jean looked like at fifteen compared to his current twenty-eight. He had grown handsomely into his long, thin face, sallow skin a shade tanner than Armin remembered, stubble trimmed neatly but still present along his bony jaw. Jean had always been skinny, even as his lean muscles developed over years and years of grueling training. The gauntness of his features shouldn’t have been attractive, but somehow it was, at least to Armin. There were more scars, as well, a thick one beneath his left cheekbone and a thin one at the corner of his mouth. Armin had his own scars, and he knew he must’ve looked older as well: He shaved regularly now, and most of his face’s stubborn, childish roundness that he had maintained throughout adolescence had finally melted away.

“Arm, what are you looking at?”

The sound of Jean’s voice and a nickname he hadn’t heard in a long time roused Armin from his contemplation, and Armin blushed as he realized he had been staring intensely at the other man.

“Sorry. Just-”

“Thinking?” Jean cut him off with a knowing smirk. “Yeah, you do that a lot. Go on, then, what were you thinking about.”

Armin pursed his lips for a moment as he contemplated the best way to tell Jean his thoughts.

“Thinking about how far we’ve all come, I guess. This place, the city, how much everything’s changed, how much you’ve changed. It all still catches me off guard.”

“I haven’t changed that much.” Jean offered, quirking his eyebrow as Armin vehemently shook his head.

“But you have, I have. Everyone has. Even the Commander, and she's the only one from...well, from back then that I see anymore.”

“How often do you see Mikasa?”

The question struck a dulled nerve deep in Armin, the memory of a once close friend long since grown apart from. “Often enough. She’s as busy as the rest of us are anymore. And...And I don’t know. We haven’t really been as close as we once had been since Eren…”

It was hard for Armin to think about, and probably hard for Jean, too. The world had seen fit to pull their happy little trio apart even before Eren’s death, but even after all the events of the Titan War and the war with Marley, all the things they had all had to do, the loss still broke his heart. 

“Eren loved you.”

Jean’s words surprised him, not because they were untrue but because Armin hadn’t expected Jean to be so open. He supposed Jean’s frankness would never go away.

“I know.”

“...Did you…” 

“What?”

“No. I won't ask. It would be inappropriate.” Jean shook his head, looking away at the flickering movie screen.

“Ask me.” Armin insisted.

Jean seemed hesitant, but after a moment, he exhaled deeply and spoke.

“Were you and him...ever…?”

“No.” Armin shook his head. “At times, almost, but...no. It just wasn't meant to happen that way. And he was never really the same after Shiganshina.”

“He still loved you, though. Despite everything else. Eren was still a good person to the end.”

There was nothing but sincerity in Jean’s voice, petty jealousy and rivalry long worn away. Armin’s eyes were dry, when he knew at one point in time they would have been brimming with tears.

“I mean...the only reason I'm still alive is because of Eren.”

It was not lost on Armin that if it weren’t for Eren’s sacrifice, this year would’ve been his last alive. As it was, Eren was certainly not the first person he had lost. Marco and Mina and all his other friends from training. Annie, Reiner and Bertholdt, treachery be damned, Erwin and Mike, Ymir, Sasha, countless others gone. Historia, too, and even that old fox Pixis. Who was left? A tenuous relationship with Mikasa, Levi and Connie thousands of miles away on the Continent, Hanji bogged down in work and research as the modernization of their world kept her busy. Jean had always been there, of course, but his presence now was limited to their regular correspondence through letters, which, though a reliable comfort to Armin, was not quite enough to curb Armin’s growing sense of isolation. 

“Well, I, for one, sure as hell am glad that you are.”

Armin nodded mutely, unable to move his eyes from the plush cushion of the seat in front of him. He could feel Jean’s stare on him, could feel Jean's arm resting comfortably next to his as people began to enter in from the back, waiting for the next movie to begin.

“Do you want to stay for the next one?”

“No.” Armin shook his head. “I think I'd like to leave.”

Wordlessly, they exited the viewing room, walking down the long hallway into the Yoshiwara’s elegant, sleekly decorated lobby. Other theater patrons milled about, some admiring a massive, colorful mural spanning the high ceiling, many others waiting to enter one of the other theatres. Armin didn’t look at any of them as he pushed through towards the door, not knowing exactly where it was he was going but knowing Jean would be right behind him. It was dark outside when he finally exited the building; The city’s lights were now on full display, glittering brilliantly and reflecting across the rain-slicked streets like a dizzying gold kaleidoscope. Shivering as the outdoor chill hit him, Armin wrapped his coat around himself quickly, breathing the cold air in shakily. Jean was next to him in an instant, hastily pulling his own coat on.

“Armin, are you alright?”

Armin wasn’t sure that he was, but he nodded anyways. What had gotten into him, he wondered, that a simple conversation with one of his oldest friends left him in this state? The lavish theatre suddenly seemed oppressive to him, the lights of the city far too bright, the automobiles in the street moving far too quickly. Everything around him was too much, going too fast, and he had no anchor to hold himself steady.

“Armin?”

“I...I just…I’m sorry. It’s been so long since I’ve talked about it, or...or really thought about it, or-”

No sooner did Armin hear his voice begin to quiver than he felt Jean’s hand gripping his shoulder, turning him around so that all he saw was Jean’s concerned expression.

“Armin, it’s alright. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No!” Armin exclaimed quickly, leaving a surprised expression across Jean’s face. “No. I should talk about it. I don't know what's gotten into me. It's not like I haven't talked about it before. Anyways, time’s supposed to heal, right?” 

Armin attempted a smile, but it fell flat. Jean looked for a moment unsure of what to do, and Armin could almost see Jean’s heart breaking in his features as he stared at Armin. 

“It’s just...things were so awful back then, but...part of me misses the way things were. When at least we all were together, because, because now-”

Before Armin could finish, Jean’s arms were around him, strong and tight and firm, and Armin remembered that it was Jean that was always there, Jean whose presence was a constant in his life, Jean who never seemed to go away no matter how far away he was. Armin let himself fall into Jean, wrapping his arms around his waist and not much caring who stared at them.

“I’m scared,” Armin whispered into Jean’s coat, “I’m scared because everyone else is leaving.”

“I’m not,” Jean whispered back, and Armin tried to remind himself that Jean would never lie to him. “I'm not going to leave you.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“I can. I was with you during the war, and I’m with you even though it’s over. I’ve got no reason to want to leave you.”

Armin could feel the tears pooling in his eyes and spilling over into the dark wool of Jean’s coat as he tried to memorize the feeling of Jean’s arms around him.

“You’ll be leaving soon.” Armin’s voice was barely a whisper, but he knew Jean could still hear him. “You’ll be going back to the settlement and I’ll be staying here, and then I’ll be by myself again.”

“Yes. Yes, I know,” Jean murmured, “But I also know that distance doesn’t matter. I’m always going to be there for you, Armin.”

Armin felt like a child, being held and coddled and crying into Jean’s coat, grabbing petulantly for something he knew he couldn’t have, because even after the war’s end the world managed to keep him from the things he wanted to experience and the people he loved. Everything around him had changed, and the only thing that seemed to stay the same was the soldier’s duty lodged firmly in his core, unwilling to accept events of the past and wholly unable to let go, too damaged to possibly move forward into the strange new world it found itself in. 

No one stayed, and Armin was filled with dread at the realization that it was only a matter of time until Jean left, too, and then suddenly Jean's lips were on his, and all thoughts of war and peace, city and settlement, past and future, all melted away. The feeling of the kiss was incredible, and stable, and filled with a comfort Armin hadn’t felt in years. Armin’s hands came up to wrap around Jean’s neck, fingers once again catching in his hair as they pulled away from each other, each catching his breath.

“Sorry,” Jean breathed out, “You just looked like you needed that.”

Armin nodded, eyes wide even as the tremendous anxiety he had been feeling only moments ago dissipated in the wake of the kiss.

“I...sorry, I guess I did, but...when did-”

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” Jean said with a soft smile, bringing one hand up to gently brush some of Armin’s fringe from his eyes. “And something tells me you have, too.”

“Yes.” Armin confessed with a short, breathless laugh. “Yes, I suppose.”

“Some things change. Many things for the better. But I’m always going to care about you, Armin. And I’m always going to want to be in your life. I don’t care in what way, only that I am.”

Armin’s hand came up to hastily wipe away the tears dried on his cheeks and still streaming from his eyes, offering Jean a smile.

“I’m always going to be in yours, too.” 

“Let's get married.”

“Married? We just had our first kiss!” Armin laughed incredulously.

“Didn't feel like it.”

Armin shook his head, amazed at Jean's boldness even as he lifted his head up to press a soft kiss on the corner of Jean’s mouth, right above his little scar.

“You want to come back to my apartment, by any chance?”

“Got a few more things to show me there?” Jean asked with a cocky grin, setting Armin's heart fluttering.

“Maybe.” Armin murmured, and Jean's eyes lit up brighter than the city as he held out his arm for Armin’s to loop through, following Armin as they walked away from the marquee.

Many things had changed. Many of his friends drifted away, many others simply had too painful of memories associated with them. But Armin had no choice but to sail through the changing tides, and he knew that he would no matter how hard. Hopefully, in a few months time, he would be where he belonged; Out on the frontier at Jean's side. Until then, he was content to trudge onwards, at long last having a future to look forward to.

**Author's Note:**

> ik a lot of snk's aesethics as of late are probably more inspired by the WWII era than anything else, but...imo WWI has a lot of untapped potential for artistic interpretation, and a lot of things in snk (certain elements of marleyan clothes, for example, or the blimp) seemed more in line with 1910s than 1940s. so, ten years from the 1910s=1920s. really i just wanted an excuse to write some period piece jearmin.
> 
> also sorry to my ema fans...i love them as much as the next gal but i AM interested in what a potential breakup of the trio would look like. this fic is really just me playing around with an idea of what the ending could look like, including the speculation involving eren sacrificing himself to save the other shifters/other character deaths (not that i'm making predictions or anything. i'm not very good at it and i just like to have fun).
> 
> as it is, i'm not totally pleased w the ending but i'm too lazy to go back and rewrite it. thanks for reading, and please leave a comment if you enjoyed or if you have any suggestions or otherwise <3


End file.
